


Wisdom of the Fool

by hisboywriter



Category: Free!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, becoming boyfriends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-21 14:53:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2472272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hisboywriter/pseuds/hisboywriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things never changed, and Makoto wasn't all that fine with that.</p><p>Also known as my interpretation of MakoHaru becoming canon in Tokyo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Epiphany

 

Some things never changed.

 

And yet, with no preamble, they did.

 

Makoto felt the moment when he wasn’t fine with that certainty. The epiphany seemingly struck out of nowhere, as epiphanies tended to do, during the Wednesday lecture on Piaget’s formal operational stage. Makoto’s notes had trailed off mid-word about the psychologist’s theories, his professor’s typical stentorophonic voice sounding muffled.

 

Somewhere between notes on childrens’ ‘deductive reasoning’ and ‘abstract ideas’, Makoto realized he liked his best friend.

 

Really liked him that was. That kind of liking liking (eleven-year-old Nagisa’s wording) that began at the end of elementary school and matured into a staple of everyday junior high, where kids occupied daydreams with images of their crushes and studied themselves longer in mirrors. It was the kind of liking that dragged you through sleepless nights, staled the taste of food, and adjusted the tilt of your world so all good feelings revolved around that one person.

 

It was the same kind of liking liking that pulled out out of your school lesson.

 

“Hey.”

 

The soft hiss was accompanied by a gentle jab to Makoto’s elbow. The physical connection reeled him back into the present lecture once more, blinking rapidly as if that would realign everything. Makoto glanced at his classmate as if just recognizing Mia had been sitting next to him all this time. Never mind that she’d become his first univeristy friend months ago.

 

Said friend arched a brow at him.

 

Makoto blinked once more and looked forward, picking up the pieces of his professor’s lecture. Crap. He had fallen behind. Gaping down at his lined paper, panic had him scrambling to catch up, jotting down broken sentences that he could decode into something sensible at a later time.

 

Another light tap to his elbow and Mia’s notebook slid over just enough for her to keep writing, and for him to see what he’d missed. Makoto gave her a thankful expression before copying the main points.

 

It was proper punishment, he decided. Epiphany or not, it was a long time coming even if he would not recognize it then and there. After all, wasn’t it lately that the trivial could remind him of Haru. A classmate’s posture would do it, or a hair color, or the smell of fish?

 

To say these feelings were nascent was nothing but a lie. A bad one at that. But it wasn’t like he had t picked the blue notebook because it reminded him of Haru’s eyes. Not at all. Maybe.

 

Makoto buried such thoughts somewhere to later be unearthed and wrote with fiercer purpose.

 

When the lecture ended (soon after, thank all good things) and he’d caught up enough, he took it as a good fortune. He felt a sudden fatigue from all the thinking he was going to have to do later.

 

“It’s not like you to space out,” Mia said, gathering back her notes.

 

Miako’s smile quivered, sheepish. “Sorry about that. Thanks though.”

 

Mia hoisted up her bag, lingering by his side. “Everything okay?”

 

Makoto smiled her way, both in thanks and that way that hopefully assured her all was well, and that he most certainly was not overwhelmed with the severity of his abrupt dilemma.

 

“Yeah, I just went into a daze for a moment.”

 

“Exams are next week,” she conceded, nodding as though she had experienced this side effect of exam-preparation herself.

 

She waited while Makoto wrote another memo in his planner for the upcoming exam, in capitals. Given his current state of mind, he also highlighted it and supplied a few red strokes beneath it. Just in case.

 

“It’s a busy week,” he added. “Some of my friends from Iwatobi are coming to visit too. It was the only time this month they could stop by.”

 

He tried not to think about what kind of smile Nagisa would grow if he got even a whiff of Makoto’s aforementioned predicament. Nagisa had a nose for those kinds of things and an even bigger nose if you wanted such things kept private. There was no option but to remedy the situation before that could happen.

 

Makoto assured himself he would, grabbed his bag, and walked after Mia.

 

“Ah. Have you been sleeping enough too?” she asked once they stepped out onto campus.

 

Sometimes, he wanted to say. Makoto wasn’t sure if it was the lack of sleep he sometimes struggled with, or the dreams that surprised him on a weekly basis. He took in a deep breath of fresh-ish air and lifted his glasses enough to rub his eyes.

 

“Just more studying than I planned for, I guess,” he said. It wasn’t a lie.

 

He sucked in the atmosphere, watching students, noting the scenery he passed by almost on a daily basis. He liked university and the nuances it provided him, the hustle and hive of activity.

 

“Thinking of the after party might renew your strength,” Mia said with a soft laugh. “You’ll still come to it, won’t you? It’s going to be themed for Halloween.”

 

Makoto considered that. “I didn’t know Halloween was celebrated here. Like, costumes and all that?” he asked, relieved at the topic for distraction.

 

Before Mia could elaborate on the festivities, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Makoto scolded himself for forgetting to turn up the volume after he’d left class. He pretended it wasn’t because he looked forward to a particular friend’s texts.

 

“Sorry, hold on,” he said, fishing it out. Nagisa’s name flashed on the screen.

 

**Rei-chan and I found a**

**cat toy shaped like a**

**mackerel for haru-chan!!**

**are we meeting at yours**

**or Haru-chan’s?**

Makoto contained a chuckle at all the scenarios that had led Nagisa to dragging, and it would be dragging, Rei into an aisle of pet goods.

 

“It’s one of my friends,” Makoto said to Mia, thumbing back a reply.

 

**Sounds cute lol Not sure**

**yet. I’ll text you asap**!

 

“You should invite them to the party,” Mia said, waiting by his side, patient.

 

Makoto looked at her, considering that. “Mm. They won’t be here until the following week, actually. When’s the party?”

 

“The following week. Don’t you have that other friend around too? Invite them as well. It’s not strictly student-only. I doubt they’d care anyway.”

 

His phone chimed again, cutting off their conversation momentarily. It wasn’t Nagisa’s name this time on his screen. A smile touched his lips the instant he saw Haru’s name.

 

**where are you?**

 

Haru’s personality matched his texting voice. Makoto almost sniggered at the memory of being on the receiving end of Haru’s first slew of texts, right after they moved to Tokyo. It was more like a handful during the week, but given it had started at zero texts a week back in Iwatobi, a ‘slew’ sounded applicable. At first Haru had eschewed the use of his phone until too many foul ups in their meetup times and locations forced Haru to employ it, begrudgingly.

 

Makoto liked it though. He rushed his response as a courtesy to Mia’s company.

 

**near the west library.**

**are you here already??**

 

He might have been hoping a little harder than usual for the affirmation, and yet also hoping Haru hadn’t made the trip directly from practice.

 

“Girlfriend?”

 

Makoto lifted his head. Mia’s smile tilted and she gestured to his phone.

 

“Oh! N-No, not like that. Why?”

 

Mia shrugged one shoulder. “You have this silly smile on you. I’ve seen it before so I figured. Am I wrong?”

 

Did he really have such a smile? Given today’s realization, he could believe her, not that he and Haru exchanged texts often.

 

Another chime.

 

**on train**

So he’d be here soon. Makoto could meet him as he got off the train, provided he put a little oomph to his strides, which were long as they were without any additional oomphing.

 

Not forgetting Mia, he smiled at her as he started thinking of an apology for breaking their walk back so soon.

 

“It’s not like that,” but he wanted it to be, “but, anyway, I’m sorry. I actually have to go, I mean, if I want to make it to the station-”

 

Mia was still smiling at him, and she waved at him in a shooing motion. Makoto liked her smiles. They were knowing, but without the tease and mischief prominent in another friend’s smile he knew too well.

 

“Better get going then,” she said. “I’ll text you later for study group.”

 

“That sounds great. I owe you. Thanks!” Makoto waved at her as he took off in a rushed walk. Once he’d turn his back from her, he texted back, heart fluttering.

 

**I’ll come get you.**

**We can get dinner.**

 

He pocketed his phone, not expecting a reply. Funny how all his enjoyment in texting Haru, he was fine at the lack of them, at least by average standards. Nagisa and Rei messaged him, the former being guilty for having texted twenty-seven times in one day, the nature of them having ranged from a photo of the day’s lunch or an update of the current Iwatobi team’s shenanigans.

 

It did Makoto good though, feeling the distance hadn’t strained their friendship. Idyllic, it felt, being where he wanted to be without the guilt creeping over him. He still struggled with the fact that compassion, or kindness, shared the same lane as guilt.

 

Makoto exhaled and walked faster, hoping he could encourage a small release of endorphins from doing so. A fast-paced student wasn’t a rare sight on campus, and he doubted being a lovestruck fool was any less rare either.

 

Another phone chime.

 

Nagisa.

 

**okay :D tell Haru-chan**

**we can’t wait to see him.**

**Until then give him a big**

**biiiig hug to tie him over!**

 

Makoto almost flushed at the demand (not a request).

 

**Haha I’m sure he’ll**

**prefer that much bigger**

**a hug from you.**

Nagisa texted back:

 

**Boo, ok. but not like**

**you didn’t want to.**

 

Makoto’s ears went pink. Delaying a response, he shoved his phone back into his pocket, feeling as though an omen had befallen him. He sped up his pace.

 

He must have walked faster than he had anticipated, because he was at the station before Haru’s train got there. That meant for standing around with nothing but his thoughts, which weren’t particularly productive today, especially when you had exams to cram for, projects to plan, people to meet up with.

 

How could the span of less than half an hour leave him feeling so...muddled? Anxious? Tired? He couldn’t even label the feeling(s), let alone untangle them right now.

 

Makoto checked the time on his watch. About five minutes. He sighed, again, and looked around, seeking a diversion. When it came to patience, he had an infinite supply for others, but he seemed to luck out when it came to himself.

 

Across the tracks, he spotted a boy and a girl roughly his age. They huddled together, though the weather wouldn’t dip into a temperature that could justify body heat for another couple of hours. The girl hid a coy smile behind her hand, as if she didn’t want her companion to notice. His height made it easy to though and he whispered something to her that made her break out into a wider smile. With her shoes, she measured about Haru’s height...

 

Realizing he was ogling, Makoto averted his gaze, sneaking peeks though despite himself. He saw their hands reach for one another between their bodies, and the girl stretched onto her toes to say something in secret back.

 

Too many deep exhales couldn’t bode well for Makoto, but he caught himself doing it again. He made a point to not look at the couple at all and certainly not let his imagination run rampant.

 

At last, the train rolled up, the clink and hiss preluding to the crowd that disembarked in a swarm. Makoto straightened and brushed his bangs into better position, then jerked his hand down when he realized what he was doing.

 

He smoothed down his plaid shirt and waited.

 

The herd of people came off, their abundance more prevalent in Tokyo, so Makoto continued to wait until they dispersed. In their wake, they left behind a particular swimmer who wasn’t fond of being cramped in and bumped by crowds.

 

Haru stepped off, scanning the platform. It wasn’t a task to spot Makoto, an advantage with his height, and less so when he was waving. Their eyes locked, and Makoto’s heart definitely made a loud thump in his chest.

 

“Haru.” He blinked down at the large bag hooked sideways on his friend. It was bigger than the one he used for taking to his training regimes.

 

“I have tomorrow off,” Haru said.

 

It wasn’t the conventional greeting or explaining, but they weren’t all that conventional to begin with. Makoto’s smile faltered at the prospect of sharing the night together. It wasn’t uncommon, but today, Makoto felt heat rising back up his face.

 

Not now.

 

“Makoto?”

 

“Hm?” Makoto had been fixed on a point on Haru’s nape, exposed, the collarbone barely jutting out like a tease. To think if he was looking at that spot yesterday, well, it might have tickled him deep in his stomach, but it certainly wouldn’t have agitated him the way it was now.

 

“Ah, sorry.” Makoto shook his head quickly. “Long day at school with exams coming up. Come on. Let’s get dinner.”

 

Haru held his gaze a moment longer, before grunting his concurrence and matching Makoto’s steps.

 

“How was training today?” Makoto asked. He desperately clung to the strap of his bag. He couldn’t trust his hands not accidentally bumping into Haru’s, not tonight.

 

“Long.” A pause. “But good.”

 

Makoto didn’t have to cast a glance to know there was a semblance of pleasure in Haru’s eyes. It made Makoto smile easier again.

 

“Did you swim for a while after practice?” Makoto asked, knowing the answer.

 

“For a little bit.”

 

They paused with a gathered crowd at a light, which meant pressing into Haru’s boundary of personal space. Makoto had entered it countless times, but today it felt invasive, like he was leaning in with intentions Haru was oblivious too.

 

Haru smelled fresh still.

 

“Haru,” Makoto said, low enough to maintain the privacy of their conversation, “were you soaking in the bath before you came?”

 

A short grunt of agreement.

 

“Your hair’s still a little damp.”

 

“So?”

 

The light changed. They stepped off, sticking close. By now, they’d worked a rhythm in their strides through the herd, Makoto’s girth carving a path for Haru at times, while other times they drifted away for several heartbeats before merging back.

 

“You shouldn’t go out with your hair wet,” Makoto said, “especially now that the weather is getting colder.”

 

“I didn’t want to waste time.” Haru’s voice was firmer, tinged with emphasis. Then, softer, he said,  “It’ll dry.”

 

Makoto’s heart did a little flip at that. Now was the least appropriate time to let himself think on Haru’s impatience in seeing him. His mind betrayed him and thought about it anyway.

  
Another break at a light, another frisson of fearful delight coming over him.

 

All of Tokyo converged tonight to sabotage Makoto, at least it felt that way. With the crowds thickening and the buildings compacting, the more Makoto’s shoulder nudged against Haru’s, the easier his bicep pressed against Haru’s. Even among the cacophony that was Tokyo, he heard the susurrus of their pant legs brushing, his heart pumping louder each time it happened. Once, someone bumped into from the back, which resulted in the delicious tickle of Haru’s hair against Makoto’s neck. He hardly had the wit to respond to the apologizing pedestrian.

 

By the time they ducked into their preferred eatery, it all meant for an exhausted Makoto. Behind them, the congestion continued, but only one other patron occupied the humble establishment that was more than a stall but not quite a restaurant.. The lack of youth appeal ensured its quiet atmosphere, and the aromas of a warm meal always brightened Makoto’s day.

 

The workers greeted them with zeal. One bowed and gestured to the spot Makoto and Haru always took, if available, since they’d frequented the place a while ago.

 

Finally a respite as Makoto mounted the stool and got some elbow space. The man behind the counter smiled their way.

 

“Welcome back. We’ve been looking forward to you tonight. Cold one, isn’t it?”

 

Makoto returned the smile, and extended it to the other cooks he recognized. Though it had hardly been a few months, he and Haru had received the regulars treatment: a dash of familiar conversation, an occasional free drink, and Haru’s specialty now prepared for each Wednesday night they came.

 

“Thanks. The usual, please?” Makoto said.

 

Haru had nodded his greeting to the employees before taking his spot to the left of Makoto. Here, there was less a threat of their bodies running into one another. Though now there was the adverse effect of not being kept busy by navigating around shoulders and briefcases.

 

Bag set down, Makoto’s hands awkwardly found perch on the smooth countertop. Their spot rested near the end of the stretch of counter. It allotted Haru the privacy Makoto knew he preferred, and enough space to prop up a textbook when studies demanded it.

 

Maybe he should drag one out now, allow himself--

 

“You’re acting weird.”

 

Caught. Makoto flinched.

 

“Eh?” Makoto glanced over, then averted his gaze just as quickly. Haru’s stare, as capable as it was in indifference, intensified just as much. All of it concentrated on Makoto now. “Am I? Sorry.”

 

“Why?” Haru said.

 

Makoto clung to aroma exuding from the nearby kitchen, aware of every clink and shuffle, anything that wasn’t Haru’s staring.

 

“It’s nothing,” he said, willing himself to meet that gaze.

 

Haru’s eyes narrowed.

 

Their first flight from months earlier flared up. Makoto recognized the accusation in Haru’s eyes, the way he clenched his fingers ever so slightly on his lap.

 

Makoto exhaled and dug frantically through his mind.

 

“It’s…” The events that followed his epiphany came to him in flashes. “A friend. Well, there’s...a party she invited me to.”

 

Haru eyebrows went up, but he didn’t relax. “A party?”

 

Makoto nodded. “Remember Mia? We have a few classes together. I’ve been blowing her off lately, but you have some free time that same day...I know you’ve been busy with training and your own school work.” Makoto hated the words in his mouth, the taste of a lie. Even if it wasn’t untrue, it didn’t leave him feeling any better. “And I know these types of things aren’t your favorite…”

 

“It’s at your school?”

 

Makoto nodded, noting the way Haru digested the information. He’d never spoken interest in the friends Makoto had made at his school, but that didn’t mean he didn’t think about it or had his opinions (suspicions) about them.

 

Haru looked away. “Are other people you know going to be there?”

 

“Probably. If Rei and Nagisa aren’t leaving early, maybe they can go too. It’s actually kind of neat. It’s Halloween-themed. You know, like, dressing up, so I think. I haven’t confirmed that, but…”

 

“Okay.”

 

Makoto straightened. “Okay?”

 

Haru faced forward in his seat . “You want to go. I’ll come with you.”

 

Oh.

 

Makoto wanted to beam, but he had enough tact now to tone it down. Without asking, Haru had patched the issue of Makoto’s desire to see his friend and yet not be flakey to the new ones. Though Makoto’s mind, susceptible as it was in the current state, dared to whisper that Haru’s voice had been a little too firm, too quick to say he’d tag along.

 

“That’s...yeah, that’d be great.”

 

It felt like a step toward bridging the friends of Tokyo with those from Iwatobi.

 

“Is that all?” Haru asked.

 

“Yeah, I just...I’m glad you want to go. It’ll be your first time meeting everyone and them meeting you.”

 

Haru made a noncommittal grunt.

 

Makoto wasn’t confident to say he felt relieved, but just sitting there beside Haru and steering the conversation to swim practice felt familiar. In that familiarity, Makoto found peace, however thin it was over the layers of everything else.

 

He wasn’t foolish though. He knew something was up a long time ago but had let it slide when his life got busier. Back in Iwatobi, he would stare a little longer at Haru’s back when they changed, or felt just that much lighter whenever Haru stayed the night. Little, harmless sensations that passed by like a breeze.

 

Little did he know they had not passed, instead fermenting all these years, and maybe he was a late bloomer, or maybe he’d just been too darn busy for much else, or because it was his nature to put his own needs on the back burner, but he’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t woken in the middle night from a wet dream or two.

 

“Makoto.”

 

Makoto looked over. Haru’s soup held its customary shreds of mackerel, one piece trapped between chopsticks that gestured to Makoto’s untouched bowl.

 

“You’re not eating.”

 

Oh. Right. Makoto remembered saying thanks for his food but couldn’t remember what triggered him into staring off into its not-quite abyss and trail off mentally.

 

“Oh.” He hoped his laugh wasn’t nervous. “That wouldn’t do, right?” Keep talking, don’t hang up on the awkwardness. “It’s still strange having a full dinner to myself. I’m use to sharing with Ren and Ran.”

 

“They’ll be happy to see you when you visit.” Haru slurped down his noodles, licked his lips and stared off. “Oh. That reminds me. They said they think that cat’s going to have a litter.”

 

Makoto just about choked on his meal. He covered his mouth as he coughed himself through having swallowed down the wrong tube, feeling a light pat to his back as he did so.

 

“W-Wait,” he managed after a moment, “they told you? They didn’t tell me anything. And they talk to you?”

 

“No,” Haru picked up where he’d left off in his dinner, “they text me sometimes.”

 

“They text you?”

 

“They use your dad’s phone.”

 

That had merit. Before parting to Tokyo, one condition the Tachibanas had set was having Haru’s number as well. One of those parental concerns that could only be moderately assuaged by covering all corners of emergencies.

 

Makoto chuckled. “They miss you a lot too, you know. I wonder if she’s really pregant or just plump. I think they’re feeding her too much in my stead.”

 

Haru chewed a little slower, then bypassed a response to that by saying, “They text you a lot as it is. They didn’t want to bother you more while you study. Maybe they wanted to surprise you when you came back to visit.”

 

“I’ll be sure to act surprised.”

 

Haru peered over at him, a ghost of a smile passing by. “You will.”

 

That smile struck right down deep into Makoto, even if it had only lasted a fraction of a heartbeat and Haru was back to eating. How a smile could leave him feeling chills and a surge of heat at once was beyond him.

 

Makoto pressed his lips together, forcing his attention onto his soup.

 

He decided to leave the textbooks in his bag.

 

**-x-**

 

The effects of a recent move-in still afflicted Makoto’s place. Opened boxes cluttered corners, though only a handful, and with items he didn’t require on a daily basis. By now, Makoto was a firm believer that unpacking was a six-month process. Each day he said he’d get to it, he dozed off before finding the necessary energy to expend on the task.

 

At the least, years of picking up after twins had ingrained a proclivity toward neatness and cleanliness. Sometimes Makoto left yesterday’s clothing hanging over a chair, or the dishes wouldn’t be done until the following morning, but after having visited his new friends’ places, he knew his apartment was immaculate by comparison.

 

“Go ahead and get comfortable,” Makoto said, shutting the door behind him. Unlike the object of his affection, he had the habit of locking his doors and windows.

 

Haru peeled off his shoes and bag before padding onto the hardwood, pausing by the island counter that identified where the kitchen ended and the living room began. Perched there, a large bowl housed the other occupants of the apartment. A tube of their food sat next to them.

 

Haru watched the four fish, then reached out and grabbed the fish food. He looked at Makoto.

 

Makoto smiled and nodded at the bowl. “Go ahead. It’s time they ate. I think Rei’s getting kind of big though.”

 

“Maybe she’s pregnant.”

 

Makoto chuckled, already imagining non-fish-Rei’s reaction to seeing his fishly embodiment spewing out eggs.

 

As he worked off his own shoes, Makoto heard the feeding stop and the soft pad of Haru’s feet as he walked deeper into the living room.

 

“You got a new couch,” Haru said.

 

Makoto stood up and studied the blue loveseat, squat but not too low and with plump enough cushions to be worth keeping. He’d positioned it behind a coffee table that housed his laptop and a stack of books.

 

“Yeah,” he said, “yesterday. It actually belonged to a friend of Mia’s. He was moving in with his girlfriend so he didn’t need it anymore. He gave me a great rate on it and even helped me move it in.”

 

He thought he saw Haru’s eyebrows furrow, but it was too fast and Haru had turned his face away to curl up on the couch. He wiggled this way and that, stretching, padding the cushion.

 

Makoto set his backpack down against the wall before looming over Haru. He laughed. “What are you doing?”

 

“Guess it’s comfortable.”

 

Makoto couldn’t bring himself to move away, not when Haru squirmed on his couch, then met his eyes. “Beggars can’t be choosers, as they say.”

 

“You’re hardly a beggar.” Haru tucked his legs closer to his chest, allowing just enough room for Makoto to sit beside him.

 

Maybe if he sat for a while--

 

Makoto turned around. “I’ll, ah, make some tea. It’s cold tonight.”

 

Makoto swallowed and, with Herculean effort, willed himself into the kitchen instead. He needed to keep busy; he grabbed the tea kettle and filled it with water from the sink, keeping his focus on the rising water, and certainly not at the hint of Haru’s bare ankles nestled on his seat.

 

“I already laid out an extra towel,” he said, plugging in the device before deciding to do the few dishes he hadn’t done from this morning, “you can soak in the bath a while if you’d like. I have some studying to do anyway, sorry.”

 

No response.

 

The kitchen had the counter circling its perimeter in lieu of a full wall, which meant more chances to watch Haru from the living room when he came by and cooked. Now, it provided a view of Haru’s back, the soft mop of his hair, the drawn up legs.

 

Makoto turned the water off and came over, towel in wet hands.

 

“Haru?”

 

Nothing, still. He inclined forward, and found Haru out cold.

 

Makoto exhaled deeply. “Sleeping on that isn’t going to be good for your back…”

 

Not that Makoto blamed him. Vigorous training dictated a greater need for sleep, or suffer the fatigue from overtraining. It wasn’t the first time Haru had soon dozed off in the company of his apartment, nor was this the first time Makoto lingered by him just to watch.

 

Haru slept like the dead for the most part. Occasionally, he laughed in his sleep, though it dribbled out more like a muffled series of grunts or croaking. Nagisa had tried staying up the few times they slept over, but thus far only Makoto had been privy to that Haru-fact.

 

He was secretly happy for that.

 

As Haru slept, a force beyond his understanding coaxed him closer. A free hand reached out, hovered over Haru’s hair, hesitated. Haru would keep sleeping, so what was the harm in feeling his hair, letting his fingers brush through in a way friends didn’t touch each other’s hair. Maybe Haru would wake up, and he’d understand, and reciprocate or make sense of all these emotions for Makoto’s sake--

 

Makoto’s hand stopped. His fingers curled, and he forced his arm back down.

 

After putting the towel  back and tugging the covers of his bed back, Makoto shook his friend’s shoulder. No response. Again.

 

The tea kettle bubbled in the background.

 

Stifling down a moan (and other raunchier things), Makoto did what he had done at least five times before; he scooped up Haru into his arms. It wasn’t hard. He let himself replay the times Haru remarked on his incredible strength as he walked slower than necessary to the single room in the apartment. To think he employed it for this kind of thing.

 

Best if he did as little thinking as possible right now.

 

Not that Makoto minded the task. There was on overload of sensory input as he carried Haru into the room, deposited him into his bed, hovered over him for an instant as he did so. The bed’s default state was accomodating room for two, though it hard started out for one.

 

Makoto prioritized Haru’s need for rest over whatever was going on in his own head, heart, and maybe a little in his loins. Once he’d stripped Haru (he tuned out all thoughts here) to his sweats and shirt, he immediately detached from the situation, shutting the door for good measure.

 

In the hallway, Makoto leaned against the wall. His legs felt heavy, his head like lead. With effort, he eventually dragged himself back to the living room.

 

“This is ridiculous.” He didn’t feel better saying it aloud.

 

Tea could work wonders. Hopefully for that, Makoto poured himself a cup and settled in as much as he could. Sitting on the loveseat, he hauled his laptop across his thighs. Emails and studying didn’t pause just because he was reeling from a crisis.

 

He opened his email.

 

Nagisa hardly filled his inbox here, preferring instant messaging through the phone. There was a message from Rei seeking advice on a new training regime he and Gou were calibrating. That put Makoto’s conflictions aside for a moment. He replied to it with his opinions, closing it with sending Gou a hug from him.

 

An email from Mia. Two from Nagisa with links. School emails.

 

Beneath it all, he located Rin’s.

 

Makoto kept in touch with him via email strictly. It was the easiest, given Rin’s new schedule in Australia and they weren’t about to dent their wallets with texting charges.

 

Makoto paused after opening the recent email from his friend, however, when he noticed Rin’s shark icon showing active.

 

Should he?

 

Makoto clicked on it.

 

**Mako_Tachi : Hey, you’re still up?**

Part of him hoped Rin wouldn’t reply. He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until the icon indicated a response was being written.

 

**Rin0202: Yeah doing some last min assignment stuff. Gou wanted to Skype for a bit too. again.**

Makoto chuckled through his nose.

 

**Mako_Tachi: She’s your sister.**

**Rin0202: Did you message me to talk about my sister?**

**Mako_Tachi: No…**   
  
**Mako_Tachi: How are things going?**

 

**Rin0202: Busy. Training’s more intense but it’s somehow less crazy when you’re not the captain**

**Mako_Tachi: Rei’s mentioned Nitori doing well**

**Rin0202: He’ll do a good job**

**Mako_Tachi: All thanks to you. For Rei too.**

**Rin0202: It wasn’t much.**

Makoto considered asking how that friend of Rin’s was doing, but thought better of it. Yet neither could he bring himself to drag up what he really wanted to ask. Talking extensively about himself twisted his stomach up.

 

**Rin0202: What’s up**

 

Makoto frowned at the question. He couldn’t dissect its meaning.

 

**Mako_Tachi: What do you mean?**

**Rin0202: You’re weirdly quieter. Usually you talk a lot about school and Haru.**

**Mako_Tachi: Do I really talk a lot?**

**Rin0202: More than you are now.**

**Mako_Tachi: Oh. Sorry.**

 

**Rin0202: What are you being sorry for?**

**Makoto wasn’t sure.**

**Rin0202: Get on skype.**

Before Makoto could inquire about anything, Rin’s icon blinked off. Not one to disappoint an expectation, Makoto signed onto Skype quickly, and received a call the moment he was online.

 

Rin’s face pixelated into view, then smoothed out as the application loaded to its full capacity. He had an eyebrow arched, looking expectant.

 

**“Well?”**

Makoto smiled in hello, then shrugged. “I’m not sure what you mean…”

 

**“Is something wrong?”**

“What? Er, no, I--”

 

**“You’re far from being Haru.”**

Makoto tensed up. “What?”

 

Rin rolled his eyes. **“Something’s bothering you. Do you want to talk about it or not?”**

 

No, but yes. Makoto studied his friend, feeling the layers of his facade strip away the longer Rin watched him with those keen eyes. For all his previous outbursts and bitterness, Rin had equally developed a maturity that left Makoto in admiration even now. That, and his intellect. Rin didn’t give himself enough credit on that though.

 

“Okay,” Makoto said, deflating in his spot. He adjusted the laptop screen so Rin could still see him from his slouched state. “I guess the longer I don’t talk about it, the worst it’ll get. It’s not even been a full day, and exams are coming up…”

 

Rin flashed him a sharp grin. **“So, what’s the trouble? Did you fight with Haru again? Did he take off to London?”**

 

“No,” Makoto hissed in lieu of blurting out the protest. “He’s...here. I had to carry him to bed again.”

 

 **“Oh.”** A heavy pause. **“So it’s that.”**

 

“What?”

 

Rin tilted his head, looking away as if the topic was not new to him in the slightest. **“Seriously, Makoto.”** He exhaled, slowly. Perhaps time as a captain had built up his patience. **“I can’t read Haru’s mind like you, but I can read you easily enough. You’re not that hard to figure out.”**

 

Makoto wasn’t sure if that was a compliment. “I feel very clueless today, Rin…”

 

**“You don’t look that clueless. Hell, you’ve practically liked him since we were kids.”**

“What?”

 

**“Might want to keep your voice down. Haru’s asleep, right?”**

Makoto’s cheeks felt warmer with each statement. “It’s...I mean…”

 

**“So, you like him. That’s not exactly news.”**

“Why does it feel like that then?” Makoto snuck a glance at his bedroom door. “Have you ever felt like this?”

 

Rin sputtered, then straightened just as quickly. He cleared his throat and avoided Makoto’s gaze.

 

**“What’s with the question all of a sudden? We’re talking about you.”**

“So you don’t like anyone?”

 

Rin’s face fell, pinning Makoto with the intensity of his gaze. How often had that gaze been fixed on Haru, stirring mixed feelings in Makoto as a result? Too many.

 

**“I don’t know why you are suddenly realizing it, but you don’t have to look like you’re going to cry.”**

“I’m not going to cry.”

 

**“I’m guessing you haven’t told him.”**

Makoto’s flush returned all the way through his neck. “You’re the first.”

 

Rin’s expression softened as he digested that. Whatever he thought of that remained private though, and he turned away sharply, snorting.

 

**“Che. I don’t know what you want me to tell you, but to me it’s obvious what you should be doing.”**

Hope had Makoto straighten up in his seat. “What should I do?”

 

**“What anyone does. Find a way to tell him.”**

“What? I don’t want to...or...you know…and with everything going on…”

 

Makoto groaned at the timing of it all. The freedom that came from life away from a busy home had initially been scheduled with studying, keeping up a workout regime (good for stress and for sharpening the mind), and, well time with Haru. Though now that notion took on a meaning that had Makoto feeling warm around his ears.

 

He wasn’t prepared for this type of crisis.

 

“What if it affects his training?” he went on, Rin allowing him to rant.  “I couldn’t do that to him.”

 

**“Makoto.”**

Makoto’s eyes had fallen to the keys, envious of their simplicity and order, everything his life didn’t feel like. Too bad he didn’t have a ‘back’ key in real life should things foul up. At Rin’s tone though, he lifted his eyes back up.

 

Rin smiled, teethless. **“Don’t overcomplicate things in your head. I know how you get.”**

 

“Am I that obvious?”

 

 **“Not really. Look, I don’t think your decision to go to Tokyo was the last decision you made for yourself.”** He shrugged one shoulder. **“The only person responsible for your happiness is yourself.”**

 

Makoto’s eyes bulged a little. When he spoke again, it sounded a little breathless.

 

“That’s...very poetic, Rin.”

 

 **“Shut up!”** Rin’s glower returned, but it was short-lived. **“You wanted my advice? There you have it. Tell him in your own way. What comes after that, comes, but this is Haru we’re talking about. He’s not going to bolt.”**

 

They both fell to an eerie silence, simultaneously conjuring up the trip to Australia.

 

 **“Well, not for that reason anyway. I’m sure of it.”** Rin must have caught something in Makoto’s demeanor, because he added, almost delicately, **“You know he forgot his swim trunks when he came to Australia?”**

 

Makoto’s jaw hang open. “He forgot...he wasn’t wearing them?”

 

**“No. I had to lend him a pair.”**

Makoto didn’t know how to handle that fact.

 

Rin didn’t seem to want to be around when he finally did. **“Listen, not to cut things short, but it’s getting late for me, so I need to go. But, you know, email is the easiest way to reach me still. Just don’t get all sappy about it.”**

 

Shaking out of his revere for the moment, Makoto nodded, chest finding it a little easier to breathe.

 

“Of course, of course. And thank you, Rin. It really means a lot.”

 

**“Jeez, don’t make a big deal of it, okay? I’m not an expert.”**

“I just wasn’t sure if it was a topic that would...bother you.”

 

 **“This, coming from you?”** Rin’s chuckle was refreshing. **“You like who you like. I’m off now. See ya.”**

 

Makoto signed off seconds after Rin did. He sat quiet as the conversation replayed in his mind. It unearthed a feeling of assurance and other good feelings he’d been needing since the morning. It had only been a few hours but his mind felt a week’s worth of fatigue.

 

A thorough investigation of his planner, emails, and its calendar confirmed he could use the morning to finish some studying before his afternoon class.

 

Makoto put his items away and washed the rest of the dishes, including dumping the tea that had gone cold, all the while coddling himself with the ease of Rin’s words.

 

After changing into sweat pants and a large shirt, Makoto pulled loose an extra pillow and blanket from the closet (thanks went to his parents for them). Tonight he didn’t think it wise to crawl into bed after Haru.

  
They’d shared bed space since they were kids, and even back home, Haru would drop down to the futon to sleep beside him if Makoto wouldn’t share the bed with him. He didn’t like the unfairness of the sleeping arrangement, so he had said, and, really, they both slept deeper that way. Makoto tried to pin it on the fact that someone’s body heat could do that. That had been proved wrong multiple times.

 

A final check of his windows and door, and Makoto flopped into his bed for the night, preparing himself for a crick in the back or neck for it. The couch hardly accommodated his girth. He preferred that pain over any indecency that might overwhelm him in a warm, comfortable space shared with Haru.

 

Curling up on the loveseat sure felt different.

 

Makoto stared out into the shadows thrown across his room.

 

_Just tell him…_

Eventually, Makoto dozed off repeating the mantra in his mind.

 

 

**-x-**


	2. Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Makoto's epiphany is not that much of an epiphany, at least for Haru.

 

Makoto woke up with two blankets on him.

 

One belonged in his room, draped over Haru, but instead now tickled his cheek. Of the two blankets, this one was superior in both thickness and texture. Best, and maybe this was the drowsiness getting the best of him, it held the hint of Haru’s scent.

 

Makoto sat up after allowing himself a moment’s indulgence, blinking away the haze and gradually navigating his way into the kitchen to prepare coffee. He’d never touched the stuff all his life for the most part, but it only required a couple of weeks into university for the habit to develop. Either that or accept the consequences of dozing off in the most inconvenient spots. Or worse.

 

The digital numbers on the microwave read just a quarter past eight in the morning. The coffee started to gurgle. With sleepiness masking the weight of yesterday’s emotions, Makoto padded to the bathroom, knowing it was occupied.

 

“Haru,” he said at the door, a yawn creeping out of him. “May I--”

 

“It’s unlocked.”

 

Of course it was. Makoto decided to spare the lecture of locking doors (it was too early) and came inside. The bathroom was a small space, but it had a tub in lieu of a shower. He’d be lying if he told anyone he hadn’t cared if his place came with one or the other.

 

In said tub, Haru pruned, ducked in so his nose barely grazed the top of the water.

 

“Good morning,” Makoto said. By his assessment, and he’d gotten pretty good at it by now, Haru had been soaking for nearly half an hour. The black and purple colors shifting under the water told that Haru had his trunks on.

 

Haru’s eyes lifted to him, head rising slightly so he could speak. “You were shivering when I went over there.”

 

Makoto stretched, cracking a few things, before turning to the sink to wash up. He spoke between the task of brushing his teeth, washing his face, and assessing if his near-sightedness had worsened. He might have looked a little harder at his hair too.

 

“Shivering? Really?”

 

“You were half dangling off the couch.”

 

“It’s alright. I slept fine.”

 

Haru made a soft sound, like a snort, but it was hard to be sure with the water running.

 

“You should have slept in the bed,” Haru said once Makoto turned off the faucet.

 

Yesterday’s events poured over him anew. He buried his face in the towel. Luckily, he wasn’t entirely lucid yet, so he didn’t blush. Clearing his throat,  he came over to the tub, hand out.

 

“It’s fine, really. You were already knocked out. I didn’t want to wake you.”

 

Haru was definitely on the verge of a faint glower. He sighed and reached out blindly until their hands meshed. Emotional crisis or not, Makoto wouldn’t allow it to interfere with this moment.

 

Haru had always cut a sight for sore eyes. Swimming would do that, but there was an added benefit of watching water run rivulets over accumulated muscle, the dip and rise of each one. And there was the firm grip of his hand, wrinkled by the water and therefore providing nuisance in texture.

 

“...back?”

 

Makoto inhaled a little sharper than he meant to and jumped his gaze up to Haru’s face. His hair clung to his skin in a way that made Makoto’s hand itch to brush it aside.

 

“Sorry, what?”

 

“Does your back hurt?”

 

Makoto straightened his spine. “Oh. No. It’s alright. It’s not the first time I’ve dozed off on the couch. Kind of use to it.”

 

“You said you just got the couch yesterday.”

 

“That’s...right.”

 

Haru exhaled and reached over for the provided towel always kept handy for him. At Makoto’s place, he didn’t step out and let the water splatter where it wanted to. He used the offered hand from his friend to towel off enough to step out without causing puddles.

 

Makoto leapt at the chance to maneuver the conversation elsewhere. “I don’t have to go to work for a few hours. Did you want to go anywhere in particular?”

 

Haru paused in the doorway, towel coiled around his shoulders. He looked over at Makoto as if he was going to say something, then broke eye contact and stepped out.

 

“Haru?” Makoto tilted his head, then trailed after.

 

In the doorway, he watched Haru drift to a dresser. With Makoto’s blessing, he slipped on a too large melon-colored shirt. It wasn’t the first time Haru had worn that shirt, and Makoto thought better against asking if Haru had brought his own clothing and opted for Makoto’s shirt all the same.

 

“I’ll make breakfast,” Haru said, treading into the living room and fixing an apron over him. As he retrieved ingredients, he stayed quiet, until he looked into the freezer.

 

“You’re out of mackerel.”

 

Makoto slipped on his glasses, flummoxed by questions and that wonderful reality of Haru’s waist hugged by the apron straps.

 

He shook off his foolishness and replied, “Actually, there should be one in the fridge. I took the last one out of the freezer yesterday morning in case you stopped by.”

 

He saw Haru’s shoulders tense, then relax. There was the sound of the container with said fish popping open. The protest that Haru, a guest to his place, shouldn’t be the one cooking worked its way up Makoto’s throat, as it always did. By now though he’d learn to quell it rather than confront Haru’s logic: he was the better cook, and Makoto, when he did cook, didn’t know how to crisp a mackerel just so.

 

Until he could, Makoto found sanctuary on the couch, the blankets bundled up next to him. He checked messages and emails, humbled by the quiet he and Haru shared, save for the clink and clatter of a chef at work.

 

“Sunny-side up or scrambled?” Haru asked, his voice hardly audible over the crackle of cooking mackerel.

 

“Sunny, please,” Makoto said with a smile, before re-assessing Nagisa’s latest message: did Makoto have space in his apartment for tasteful nudity to display as art. No further information had been supplied.

 

The last message he read was from Rin, that read nothing more than: **Stop stalling and just tell him.**

****  
  


“Makoto.”

 

Haru was setting the last piece for their breakfast on the small, circular table in the corner of the living room. He’d picked it up with Haru when they spotted it at a market deep in the city, making for an interesting night self-delivering an unfoldable table ten blocks back. If Makoto thought hard enough about it, every piece of furniture here had a story about Haru.

 

Mackerel scent overwhelmed the apartment. Makoto got up, opened the blinds and windows, then hesitantly sat where his food had been served. Right next to Haru. They’d always eaten this way, shoulder to shoulder, while most sat across from each other. Now, it felt painfully obvious as he bumped Haru’s knee under the table. His apology came out breathless.

 

Haru had even poured his coffee and set it next to his plate. Makoto knew it would waste the way he liked it, extra sweet.

  
  
  


Makoto stared intently at his eggs.

 

Nope.

  
  


“H-Haru…?”

 

There was a delay as Haru swallowed his food first. He looked up, waiting.

 

How to bring it up? Or should he wait until after exams, after the party? Makoto didn’t know if there was a way for him to do it that felt natural. The more he dug for a solution, the deeper and darker he felt.

 

“Erm...just curious, that is…”

 

Haru stopped eating, his stare making Makoto want to squirm. He poked at the mound of rice under his eggs.

 

“I have a friend,” he began, “and...she has a problem. She, ah, she asked me for help but I don’t know what to tell her.”

 

“What problem?”

 

Makoto refused to make eye contact. “She likes someone. Someone close to her. That’s the problem. She doesn’t know how to tell them without...hurting the friendship.”

 

“She likes them?”

 

“Yeah, you know...that way.”

 

A pregnant pause. Makoto heard Haru resume eating.

 

“Why doesn’t she just say so?”

 

Makoto almost balked.

 

“Well, there’s...another problem, sort of,” his heart was hammering so loudly he was sure the neighbors could hear it, let alone Haru, “is that her friend is a girl.”

 

“Oh.”

 

It didn’t sound like a bad ‘oh’, nor did it sound like an optimistic one. More factual than anything else. Makoto knew he had to be pink in the ears by now. He stuffed his mouth full of food to stop talking and try not to feel as though whatever Haru had to say next would burn him.

 

He wouldn’t know; his phone rang.

 

Excusing himself in a flurry of gesticulations, Makoto answered the call, desperate and frustrated. “Yes, hello. Oh, hey. What? Oh...Oh, no. You do sound...not so great. No, no. Right. Okay. Yes, of course. Don’t worry about it. Really. Alright. I’ll text them right away. Feel better.”

 

Makoto hung up and winced at the time. When he turned back, Haru was frowning at him.

 

“I’m really sorry. My co-worker called.”

 

“You’re leaving?”

 

“She called out and they haven’t found a replacement. She had some leftovers last night and got sick.”

 

“It’s her fault for eating it.”

 

“Haru!”

 

Haru didn’t look apologetic. In fact, he turned his nose away with that tenacity even Makoto struggled to alleviate. No helping it, Makoto juggled eating his breakfast and preparing for work.

 

“Is it the one with the freckles?” Haru asked when Makoto returned from changing.

 

Makoto talked around his food. “Huh? Mm’yeah. Why?”

 

Too occupied getting ready, he didn’t pick up on the faintest twitch to Haru’s brow, the downward curl of his lips. Makoto’s question went unanswered, and would remain as such if Haru could help it.

 

“You shouldn’t eat so fast,” Haru said.

 

“I have to rush to cover her shift.” Makoto swallowed the last bit of food before dumping his bowl in the sink and his partially full cup. He could have coffee at work. As he tugged on his shoes, he looked back at Haru. “I’m sorry, Haru. You’ll be okay?”

 

“How long is your shift?”

 

“It’s four hours for her and I was going to do a two-hour one after. So,” Makoto snuck a glance at his watch and exclaimed. “Man, I’m going to have to run to make it.”

 

With students depraved of all fun things before an exam, the demand for coffee became that much greater. There were several spots for coffee, but where Makoto worked had the largest swell of students of them all. He had no understanding that he was partially the impetus for that.

 

“I’ll text you on my first break and we can figure something out, okay? Rest up. Watch anything you want. Sorry again!”

 

So much for the morning together.

**-x-**  
  


There were few baristas that filled out an apron and khakis with the shape of an athlete, and fewer yet with a sweetness that didn’t border on the cloying. Makoto fit both rarities, and a smile went a long way when you were the gap between sleep deprivation and feeling a modicum of humanity again. In Makoto’s case, it earned him a first row seat of relief and smiles, or even a flush set of cheeks. For the cafe, it meant an increase of sales.

 

“Ah, welcome back,” Makoto greeted the tenth+ customer of the morning, recognizing her one from a class and from her frequent visits to the cafe. “It’s been a couple of days.”

 

The girl stood tall, blocking the view of the other customers behind her. “Oh!" She returned his smile tenfold. "Good morning. I didn’t know you’d be working this early today,” she said. “What a pleasant surprise.”

 

Makoto smiled her way and grabbed an empty cup. “I took over a co-worker’s shift. Will you be getting the usual today?”

 

“You remembered it?”

 

“An extra shot and extra drizzle of caramel, right?”

 

Her smile reached her eyes. She nodded, watching her name be written on the cup without her prompting him. Makoto thought nothing of her beam beyond that of a customer delighted to be remembered in detail.

 

Just as he began to ring her up, he heard her stammer a protest.

 

“Um, actually, could I add something else?”

 

“Of course.”

 

She hesitated, tossing more smiles his way as she surveyed the display of treats.

 

“I’m not sure what to get. What do you think?”

 

“Well, the pumpkin bread is great. Perfect for the season, don’t you think?”

 

She nodded, head tilting down. From what Makoto could discern, something must be caught her eye for her to be blinking so much. “Have you tried the pumpkin bread yourself, Tachibana-kun?”

 

“Yes. It’s not too sweet.” He felt himself getting tense, sensing the other customers impatience. “Shall I grab you a slice as well for your order?”

 

“Maybe,” she said, pressing her lips together, “but...well…”

 

Makoto’s smile began to wilt. “Is something wrong?”

 

She shifted, doing that thing he’d seen before where her eyes went to him, dropped down, back to him again. Then, she inhaled deeply.

 

Another, wonderfully familiar voice cut through. “It’s rude to keep others waiting.”

 

Soft, yet with an underlying strength that diverted Makoto’s attention away from her. To most ears, Haru’s voice resonated with indifference. Most ears were very wrong.

 

Makoto opened his mouth, but nothing coherent came out. He angled his head to spot Haru behind the girl, who now faced the offending tongue.

 

Haru blinked up at her. “Are you done? It’s my turn to order.”

 

Makoto never received money so hastily or seen someone so shrunken into their coat, face red as a cherry. She snatched the bag with her bread and marched to the other side where her drink would be set when ready.

 

“Ah, er," Makoto looked after her, "…thank you for your purchase...”

 

“One milk, please.”

 

Makoto whipped his head around. Haru watched him, the bite to his voice receded.

 

“H-Haru, what are you doing here?” It wasn’t the first time Haru had stopped by the cafe, though it had always been near the end of Makoto’s shift.

 

Haru extended one arm, exposing a wrapped lunchbox. “You have a long shift. You didn’t bring lunch.”

 

Makoto ogled at it. If his co-workers were spying on the scene, they didn’t make it obvious. Yet. It was too easy to tune out the world, the whir of machines, the bubbling of drinks. In the span of several heartbeats, it was just him, Haru, and the lunchbox.

 

“O-Oh. Haru. You didn’t have to come all this way.” Makoto took the box, if only because Haru would stand there until he accepted it.

 

“You were out of milk,” Haru added, tugging out a wallet with an oceanic design punctuated by a dolphin in one corner. Makoto had gifted it to him after taking Haru to an aquarium as a birthday gift, last year.

 

The jingle of change was enough to rattle Makoto into action. Box set aside, he swiftly charged Haru, strangely feeling guilty for doing so; if Haru waited, he could buy the milk at a discount for him instead.

 

“Here you are. Thanks very much.” Makoto slid a moderate sized carton and a straw.

 

Haru nodded, taking it. Their fingertips grazed.

 

Makoto held his breath.

 

Haru stepped away, shattering the bubble Makoto’s imagination had fabricated. He was back at work again with a man, most likely a professor, spouting out a list of drinks. Makoto serviced him as efficiently as usual, though his smile was a pale comparison to its former one.

 

Hovering in the corner of his vision, Haru sat at a lone table against the window.

 

The next rush hit, and it felt like a day’s worth of work had steamrolled Makoto. In reality it had barely been a few hours when he got his break. He started tingling all over again.

 

Makoto left his apron on and approached Haru with lunch in tow. He deflated into the seat across from Haru, once again thankful Gou had trained them into the ground.  It made for being on his feet a little easier.

 

There was a healthy stream of students ordering their nth cup of the day, many glancing his way. One girl amongst a flock of girls at a booth waved at him. He returned it before beginning unboxing his prepared lunch. It looked sumptuous enough to wait and appreciate the construction of a Haru-made-lunch.

 

He smiled at Haru, who had been nursing his second carton of milk.

 

“Wow, Haru. It looks great” Makoto said. He was smiling fully again, energy renewing. “You didn’t have to, you know.”

 

“I know.”

 

“But you’ve been sitting here since you arrived.” Makoto let the implications hang in the air: the crowds, the overabundance of zeal once coffee hit the right chord in people, the aromas of non-fish.

 

Haru stood up. Makoto stopped breathing as he did, watching as his friend tugged his seat over so he sat beside Makoto rather than across the tiny table. Such a small gesture with such a grand impact.

 

“It’s not a big deal.” Haru reached for his drink again.

 

Makoto relaxed. His skin felt ticklish still, and he wondered if a mere brush of Haru’s arm would end him right there and then. So, mindful of his arm placement, he picked up the chopsticks.

 

He paused realizing something, then looked outside.

 

“Hold on.”

 

He got up, returning quickly after requesting a plastic spoon from another employee. Upon his return, he noticed Haru looking at a group of girls in a booth. When Makoto followed his gaze to them, he saw a few of them flush and tear their attention away.

 

Haru’s eyes narrowed.

 

“Haru.”

 

His friend looked up at him. Makoto said nothing else as he reached over, boxed up his lunch, and strode out. Haru followed deftly behind.

 

The crisp air did small wonders for a clouded mind and tired body. Makoto inhaled deeply as he guided Haru around the building to a patch of grass. The university had plenty of plots of foliage and botany, often times littered with spent students catching whatever handfuls of sleep before their next class.

 

Behind the squat cafe building, a tree with a wide trunk and a billow of branches more naked than not had been growing here for decades. Its roots were gnarled and jutted out at angles that cleared a space big enough for Makoto and Haru to share.

 

“Here,” he said, sitting and offering Haru the spoon. “You made more than enough.”

 

Haru blinked at the offering. “You still have to be on your feet.”

 

“It’s fine, really.” Makoto shimmied, smiling up until Haru sank down beside him.

 

Haru crinkled his nose, then blow out a string of air in lieu of protesting. He took the spoon, but waited until Makoto took the first bite from the lunch.

 

Warm, comforting, Haru-made. It was just the meal Makoto needed. He grinned and licked his lips. “Delicious.”

 

For a stupid second, he thought Haru was looking at his mouth. Couldn't be, and the moment passed too fast. Haru leaned close to grab a small amount of food before popping it in his mouth. Their shoulders definitely touched now, a constant pressure that kept all cold at bay.

 

It reminded Makoto of their interrupted morning discussion. He chewed at the end of his chopsticks without conscious thought, debating with himself.

 

No, he decided. Not now.

 

“They were talking about you,” Haru said.

 

Makoto peered down at him. “Who?”

 

“Those girls. A lot of them talk about you.”

 

“Really? I’m not so sure…”

 

“They do,” Haru persisted.

 

“Well, I see them a lot. That’s normal, right? I have classes with a couple of them, even.”

 

It might have been Makoto’s wishfulness, but he could have sworn Haru’s shoulder pressed more firmly against his own.

 

“That girl from before,” Haru began.

 

Makoto knew who he meant. “What about her?”

 

Haru wasn’t eating anymore, though his gaze was on the box perched on Makoto’s knee.

 

“Do you like her?”

 

Makoto nearly choked and managed to mask it in a series of laughing. Tried to, anyway.  “Wh-What?”

 

Haru pierced him with a look now, a little tight frown working on his face. “She was going to ask you out.”

 

It had no inflection of a question, but it was one all the same. Makoto swallowed down his pending anxiety, but it continued to mount despite his efforts. His mind tripped over itself with making sense of the sudden fall in their conversation.

 

“I...don’t know her that well. She comes to the cafe often though…”

 

“Because you’re there.” Haru’ voice left no room for debate.

 

Makoto laughed. “We’re in a spot where a lot of students walk by. It’s not...like that.” He lowered his chopsticks. “Haru, are you alright?”

 

“I should be asking you that.”

 

“What do you mean, me?”

 

For all his predisposition for the taciturn, Haru jerked his head away in a gesture that mirrored Ren and Ran when they were about to lockdown on their stubbornness, which often ended in a perpetual loop of childish retorts-- ‘I know you are but what am I’ had been abused too often in the Tachibana home.

 

Makoto forced himself quiet, reading Haru mannerisms, his tone, the way he held the spoon tighter than necessary. The conclusion Makoto came to, again and again, was too outrageous for him to consider, let alone believe.

 

“Haru…”

 

Haru visible relaxed, expression softening. “It’s nothing.”

 

Makoto watched what he could of Haru’s face, which proved a task when Haru seemed to be purposely ducking his head at a lower angle than usual.

 

Swallowing again, Makoto shook off some nerves and bumped his shoulder into Haru’s.

 

“It’s normal,” he said, gently, “for people to think about those things, no? I guess it’s just more...obvious now? Easier?” He didn’t know. He really didn’t know anything about this subject as well as others, a foreigner on new, unexplored land.

 

Haru fiddled with the plastic.

 

Makoto almost said. He wasn’t that tired that he’d slip up his plan, weak and disorganized as they were. Tension lined his shoulders again, and that crick in his back wasn’t helping.

 

“Do you think about it?” Makoto asked.

 

That earned him a one-eyed glare. Makoto chuckled.

 

“Sorry,” he said. He sighed and stared down at his food, appetite withdrawing, resigning himself to an awkward silence on his part. His lack of tact on these kinds of conversations was obvious, and he doubted he'd ever get better at it.

 

Their knees were near brushing. When had they inched so close?

 

Haru drew up his legs. He shifted closer.

 

His hand, that strong, nimble hand, ghosted over Makoto’s.

 

Chills chased off further thoughts.

 

“Haru?”

 

Haru snuck his hand into Makoto’s larger one, tucking it in, palm to palm. How a simple touch could feel so, so good was not up for deconstructing right now, because Haru wasn’t letting go. 

 

With their knees propped up, no one could see their joined hands tenting behind them. They said nothing.

 

Makoto squeezed.

 

Haru squeezed back.

 

**-x-**

 

In  an instant, Makoto’s world had shifted. The frayed ends of his fantasy had crossed over into reality, and it felt strange to know there was a time and date when it happened. He guessed he had adjusted to the ambiguity his dreams (both day and night) had given him. Makoto was starting to get why some people lived and breathed this, this thing for which he had no name for yet.

 

Neither he nor Haru had spoken as they held hands, sharing lunch. He returned to work as though nothing hand changed despite everything having changed. The meaning of what had happened, whatever it was, clung to Makoto like a second skin. It was both a refreshing and unsettling feeling.

 

It left him smiling like a fool.

 

Haru lingered in the cafe for the most part, periodically stepping out, only to return and claim a spot for himself. Each time he was in Makoto’s sights.

 

The double shift officially ended in the midst of a rush, a glut of people compacting the space of the cafe. Makoto breathed deeply in the breakroom as he tucked his apron into his bag. He shrugged on his coat, looped his scarf on, and exited with a wave to his co-workers.

 

No amount of psyching himself up could prepare him for the sight of Haru waiting outside, huddled into his jacket. Makoto smiled and tugged out a spare scarf for Haru. A rare, cold day in October was enough for Makoto to have prepared for it.

 

“I’m not cold,” Haru said.

 

“Haru, it’s chilly today, and you’re in thin layers.” Makoto thrust it out further.

 

“You’re the one that gets so cold. You wear it.”

 

Makoto’s eyebrows went up. “I already have a scarf on.”

 

Haru stepped away and began walking in the direction of Makoto’s apartment.

 

“Haru!”

 

Makoto closed the gap in three, long strides.

 

“I don’t want it.”

 

In the end, the scarf made itself comfortable around Haru’s neck.

 

“Don’t you feel better now?” Makoto asked. Haru certainly looked better, or rather, cuter, his face nestled in the scarf like it were water.

 

Haru only sighed.

 

Makoto smiled, triumphant. Last thing Haru needed was to catch cold. That couldn’t bode well for training, or Makoto’s conscience. Yet, even though Haru walked beside him in a few skins of cotton, heat radiated off him in waves.

 

Makoto snuck a peek down at those exposed hands. They had to be cold. Or maybe it was still warm from lunch? Images reeled in Makoto’s mind, his mind doing a good interpretation of an abstract film piece that left you with more questions than answers.

 

The path they took deviated from the congested route. Here, there were more trees, more skyline cutting shapes against the sky. Clouds clumped together to block out the sun, suggesting rain. And more cold, an aged excuse for getting cozy with someone, maybe on a new loveseat.

 

Makoto looked down at Haru’s hand. He couldn’t read its intentions, couldn’t determine if he could just...

 

The yearning took advantage of Makoto’s susceptibility. He dared to find answers in a bold gesture. It took him a while, his fingers twitching, arm hesitating, feeling like it weighed thrice its weight. Eventually, his hand shot out.

 

He fumbled; instead of grabbing Haru’s hand, his fingers crashed into his wrist.

 

“Oh, sorry! I--”

 

He shut up.

 

Haru weaved his hand into Makoto’s.

 

_Oh..._

 

Tingles from every emotional category went off in Makoto. He felt like he could float, and yet grounded at the same time.

 

Haru didn’t look at him, nor did he break pace.

 

They walked along, silently navigating through back alleys. Not exactly the most bucolic of scenery like back home. With Haru’s hand in his, Makoto didn’t mind. Though the buildings here loomed and could intimidate, the city didn’t know his secrets yet, and didn't care. 

 

Any semblance of a sentence that formulated on the tip of his tongue never came to fruition. Eventually, the more steps they took, the longer their hands stayed hidden between their bodies, the less the need to verbalize anything.

 

Once they reached the mounds of apartments, their hands untangled. It was a fluid motion, with no feeling of finality. Inside, they settled in. Haru went into the kitchen, starting tea. He kept the scarf on.

 

Makoto lingered at the mouth of the kitchen, watching. Part of him wanted to talk, to ask questions, but a much bigger part was tired and wanted to bask in the good feelings he was getting right now. He wasn’t ready to tempt fate and have her kick him for it.

 

He traversed into the suddenly confined space of the kitchen. In his apartment, everything about their proximity felt magnified. 

 

He made for the cabinet that stored the mugs.

 

“You’re tired,” Haru said.

 

“I can’t have you doing everything here.”

 

Haru looked at him like Makoto would be doing the same thing if the situation was reversed. Makoto seceded and dropped into the love seat. He didn’t care how tired he felt. Nothing could bring him down from this feeling.

 

He liked to think it was his first experience with serendipity, or at least a diluted version of it.

 

His phone went off as the water began to boil. A shimmy and a reach, and he had his phone. He could feel Haru’s curiosity.

 

“It’s Mia,” he said. “Study group is next week. Oh, and she says the party is costume-based. Starts at eight.” He looked up at the same time Haru sat beside him, teas in hand. “Is that too late for you?”

 

“No, it’ll be fine.”

 

“Are you sure? Your training?”

 

Haru tilted his head in lieu of shrugging. “I can nap before. I can come by in the morning.” A break. “If that’s okay.”

 

Makoto chuckled, cupping his warm glass. It was a different warmth than when he’d held Haru’s hand. And their knees were very much nestled against each other. “Of course it is. Ah, but you know that means we really only have tomorrow?”

 

After a sip, Haru looked over at him, not understanding.

 

“We don’t have costumes.”

 

“So?”

 

Makoto frowned. “It’s a costume party.”

 

Haru turned his face away, almost ‘hmphing’. “I’m not dressing up.”

 

“Aw, Haru, but it’s a party. It’ll be fun!”

 

“Too much effort.”

 

“I’ll help you pick something.”

 

Makoto knew he sounded pleading. If Nagisa were here, he’d lend his wit and cunning to manipulate Haru into it. Without him, Makoto had to improvise.

 

He texted Mia, listening to the quiet sips Haru took of his tea. Not a minute later, she replied just the way Makoto prayed to all gods and good things she would. Lucky day.

 

“She says it’s an expensive house with a pool. You can use it.” Provided other people weren’t spilling into it and making a ruckus.

 

Haru sniffed, burrowing into the scarf he had yet to take off.

 

“It’ll be fun,” Makoto pressed, unaware that he was pulling that puppy-look.

 

Haru peeked at him. Looked away. Took a longer sip.

 

“If it means that much to you…”

 

Makoto broke in a grin.

 

“Nothing flashy,” Haru said.

 

“Nothing flashy.” Makoto nodded, feeling like karma was paying him back already. He and Haru would go shopping tomorrow, experience their first party next week, and right now, there was the pleasure of their bodies still joined at the knees.

 

Makoto’s world tilted so that that point of contact was the center of it, emitting good vibes down to his toes. He flexed them, indulging in the quiet that they’d fashioned since the comfort of their childhood.

 

His phone chimed again, only to be temporarily ignored. It could wait a few more tea sips.

 

Between the soft slurps of tea, the sound of Haru moving closer wasn’t as strong as the feel of it. His thigh lengthened against Makoto’s, his right arm snuggled against Makoto’s left.

 

Questions spiked through Makoto, and ebbed as quickly as they came. He held firmly onto his mug with both hands.

 

“I told you it was cold,” Makoto said, earning himself a grunt in response. “Haru--”

 

“I don’t need a blanket.”

 

Another text alert. Then another, urging Makoto to reach for his phone.

 

“It’s Nagisa.”

 

**hey! change of plans**

**we can come 2morrow!**

**it’s okay right? I totally**

**forgot it’s sis #2’s bday**

 

The second text:

 

**well her bday is next next**

**week but the party is next**

** week which is bad luck no? **  
  


The last:

 

**We can come in the morning.**

**Right?? Please say it’s okay**

**Mako-chan~ We’ll help you**

**study if you need it! Rei-chan**

**is good with studying!**

** He’s getting top scores still! **

 

Makoto lowered his phone, overwhelmed with the eagerness (demand) in Nagisa’s text. Ever since attending school here, there was something anxiety-inducing about spontaneity. He wondered if Rei could relate.

 

“Nagisa said they can come tomorrow.” Makoto watched Haru take an especially long gulp of his tea. “Next week won’t work.”

 

“When?”

 

“In the morning.”

 

“Tomorrow works. It’s my last day off.” Haru set his mug down, eyes on Makoto. “Don’t you have to study?”

 

When wasn’t there a day Makoto didn’t have to study. He sighed, shaking his head to unburden himself of nonsensical panicking over exams and projects. Haru’s presence made it easier to do so.

 

“I can study throughout the day.” He texted Nagisa back. “I miss them and it’ll be nice to see them before testing starts. Being together as a group might give me the extra boost.”

 

He broke off, struck with a realization.

 

“Ah, Haru…”

 

Haru’s brows went up slightly.

 

Makoto’s groan was strained by an attempt to laugh. “I’ll do my best to convince him not to put you in something flashy.”

 

Haru understood, and deflated into the seat. He said nothing on the matter, but Makoto knew he was contemplating the various scenarios that could go down with Nagisa at the helm of tomorrow.

 

“It makes him happy when we humor him,” Makoto said, sympathetic.

 

Haru, of course, knew that though.

 

He brought his tea up to his lips, reached out with one hand, and gripped the ends of Makoto’s shirt.

 

Makoto’s stomach did a flip, but he didn’t waste a moment on over-thinking, instead sinking back so their bodies nestled side by side again. Like all the questions Makoto had (and still had), the topic of tomorrow’s escapades got lost somewhere between their elbows grazing and fingers tickling each other.

 

Makoto's phone tolled again.

 

He’d look at the message later, just as he’d get to his studies later, and go to his evening lecture later.

 

That was the best thing about later.

 

It could wait.

 

**-x-**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of subtle stuff going on with that story pace, sorry if that's a bother to anyone! I like to explore Haru's impulsiveness, hence some of the scenes above, and that jealousy of his is just too fun not to include.
> 
> A lot more dialogue to come, especially with Nagisa and Rei showing up. Costume shopping chapter next~
> 
> Thanks so very much for reading, and an extra thanks and cyber-hugs for the kudos/comments! I really appreciate it ♥

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from a quote by the writer Samuel Johnson: “Love is the wisdom of the foll, and the folly of the wise.”
> 
> These chapters will be long, sorry (it’s how I write), and this one was essentially Makoto reeling + setting these up for future chaps. Also, this is just my personal way of how their relationship develops, and how they react to certain situations, but I try to keep it canon-y~
> 
> Some things to come: Nagisa and Rei, Ren and Ran, Halloween party, Kisumi, and a plethora of other scenarios I want to shove MakoHaru into. 
> 
> This story will contain graphic sex.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> My tumblr is of the same name: hisboywriter


End file.
